


Sleepless in Manhattan

by Artemis_Dreamer



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Crack, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cute, Fluff, FrostIron - Freeform, Insomnia, M/M, Rated to be Safe, Sleepytimes, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 12:39:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Dreamer/pseuds/Artemis_Dreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tony Stark awakens to discover the Norse God of Mischief in his bed, and realizes that he really doesn’t mind. Pre-slash, with implied slash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepless in Manhattan

**Author's Note:**

> Please Note:  
> This is an attempt at a stream-of-conciousness type fiction. Therefore, it has no dialogue - please look elsewhere for witty banter.
> 
> Also, it's probably OOC. Tony and "cute" are a VERY difficult combination.

Tony Stark awoke and blearily sat upright at what the clock read as being four-thirty-two in the morning. That wasn’t terribly unusual; the amount of caffeine that he drank on a regular basis meant that sleepless nights were common. 

The unusual thing, though, was that he had been awakened by the soft huff of breathing near his ear. He had gone to bed with a woman, yes, but this was a deeper and decidedly male sound.

The soft glow of the arc reactor illuminated the figure beside him between the cotton sheets. 

Nope, most certainly not the blonde Brazilian supermodel that he had been screwing a couple hours earlier. This was a man with raven hair down to his shoulders, exceedingly pale skin, and handsome yet mischievous features. Definitely attractive-looking, and quite tall and thin, judging from the silhouette beneath the covers.

Yeah, Tony could totally see doing a guy that looked like this.

Pausing, he realized that there was something nagging at the back of his mind. He knew this man from somewhere… something related to his consulting work, maybe?

His mind was so unbearably hazy right now.

It was also around then that he realized why he hadn’t panicked, or freaked out, or shoved this unknown man off of the bed. Simple, really – he often woke up to far, FAR weirder than a mystery man.

Besides, this person was attractive, he was a sucker for sexy, and he was going on two hours of sleep and four generous glasses of scotch. He just didn’t have the energy to panic.

Yeah, maybe Steve had had a point when he had looked at Tony with that disapproving face and told him that the billionaire’s life priorities needed re-evaluating. 

(Pfft. As if Captain Tightpants had ever had a point that wasn’t on the top of his head.)

The unknown man rolled over where he lay on the left side of the bed, his back now facing towards Tony.

Geez, this was bugging him. Mystery man. Sexy. Consulting. Avengers. Team. Enemies… Loki?!

Yeah, that was Loki all right.

He was currently in bed beside the Avengers’ nemesis, the trickster god himself. And he still wasn’t freaking out. 

What did he really know about the god, anyway? Magic, shapeshifting, almost certainly gay, remarkable sass, remarkable ass- 

Oh, right. Shapeshifting.

Well, that just made this whole incident even less troubling, and much hotter. That girl he’d been with, for a night of truly glorious sex and one fantastic blowjob, had been Loki in a different form. That level of determination was beyond flattering. 

A DEITY had wanted to fuck him. Had fucked him. Whatever.

So, he was in bed with a wanted (escaped) criminal, and still not panicking.

Why should he, really?

He didn’t hate the god. He had no personal grudge, no loathing; not like his teammates did. The only thing that the trickster had ever done to him – besides making him very, very horny and giving him great material for sex fantasies – was to toss him out ONE window.

(And seriously, that had been a flawless and exhilarating test for the Mark VII.)

Maybe it was the alcohol talking, or Tony’s legendary it-it-isn’t-about-tech-or-sex-I-could-care-less attitude, but he honestly didn’t mind being in bed with Loki. At all.

So what if the god broke Manhattan every few months. The billionaire didn’t own Manhattan yet, so it wasn’t really his stuff that was getting broken.

This, to be honest, was a sexy, awesome surprise.

When a villain confronted a lone Avenger, the protocol was to sound an alarm and radio the team for backup. When a villain cuddled up in an Avenger’s bed… there wasn’t a protocol for that.

Besides, since when had Tony ever cared what the fuck the protocol was?

Loki appeared so peaceful as he slept, eyelids fluttering, occasional huffs of breath passing between his lips and interrupting the sound of his steady breathing. His legs were tucked up at the knees, and his hands were softly curled – one tucked beneath the pillow – as he lay on his side.

What it was – it was fucking adorable, and total eye candy. He was clearly gorgeous, clearly shirtless, and if Tony remembered the sex accurately, he was completely naked beneath those covers.

Maybe he’d want a few more rounds in the morning…

There were times to be a hero, and bring a dangerous criminal to justice by capturing him at his most vulnerable. Then, there were times to just lie back down, and see if the criminal beside you wanted to cuddle a bit.

Tony eased himself back down, so that he was gently spooning the mischief-maker. Human contact that wasn’t intimate was a rare thing for the billionaire, but it was pretty damn enjoyable when he could get it. 

He draped an arm over the god’s slender waist, the touch causing Loki to murmur happily and arch towards Tony like a cat being petted. The god’s head tipped back, resting against the billionaire’s collarbone, and said billionaire had to resist the urge to nuzzle his pleasantly chamomile-scented hair.

Oh God. (Pardon the pun.)

It had been so ridiculously long. All these bitchy, touch-me-not whores, who only wanted pleasure and bragging rights, with nothing after. Now, here, here was the greatest conquest of Tony Stark, pretty-much-willingly cuddling against him.

No. Conquest wasn’t the right word. Loki wasn’t a cheap slut; he was a sly god who had charmed his way into a night of passion that had truly been about the give and take. This wasn’t a conquest – this was a sexual partnership.

(Okay, this was new; respect for a one-night stand. Then again, his one-night stand was a GOD.)

Smiling into Loki’s disheveled hair, Tony allowed his eyes to drift closed. This was really quite comfortable, actually.

Yes, he was holding a villain, a murderer, in his arms. No, he wasn’t afraid – If Loki had wanted to kill him, he would be long dead already.

As it stood, the trickster was his lover of one night, and nothing more. Though, if Tony had a say in things, they would be lovers on future nights as well.

A silenced yawn passed the billionaire’s lips, and he cuddled just a bit closer to the god. Sleep had come to overtake him once more. Tony Stark promptly nodded off, and for once, his sleep was untroubled by nightmares or further restlessness.

Who knew? Loki was his perfect sleeping pill. (And, as it turned out, a HIGHLY addictive pill.)

This wouldn’t be the only night.

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> So, thank you for reading. 
> 
> This is my first attempt at this sort of stream-of-conciousness work, so hopefully it wasn't too confusing to follow.
> 
> I wrote this after waking up at about 1 am, and realizing just how little "cute" and "fluffy" work really exists in relation to the FrostIron couple. Mainly, it's either smut or angst, with occasional humor. The world NEEDS more Tony/Loki fluff, and this is my contribution.
> 
> I appreciate any and all feedback on this work - I hope you got the same sort of warm and fuzzy feeling that I did!


End file.
